


A Little Puppet Dance

by EnchantHollow



Category: The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantHollow/pseuds/EnchantHollow
Summary: Marty has some misgivings about splitting up, and Dana seems to be the one with the clearest head, so maybe they should stick together. He chooses to pull her into his room instead of letting her go into her own. This one small act throws off the Organizations plans in a major way and has the potential to change all of their futures.
Relationships: Marty Mikalski/Dana Polk
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Second and Third Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> There just isn't nearly enough CitW fanfic out there, and the movie gave me some serious brainworms. This takes place after Jules is murdered and will eventually become Dana/Marty. For context, Curt has returned to the cabin and been gassed into instructing everyone to split up. Cue zombie arm through the door, but Marty is having second and third thoughts about splitting up.

"Everyone, get in your rooms!" Curt ran for the breach, grabbing onto the zombie arm extending from it, and the others scrambled to obey him. Panic was nearly overwhelming Marty, but something was still tickling at the back of his brain.

'Splitting up is never a good idea. It always gets people killed,' he considered silently. As Dana turned into her room and Holden kept moving, Marty made a rapid decision, grabbed Dana's arm, and swung her into his own room instead. He was somewhat vindicated a moment later as the door slammed shut of its own accord behind him, catching the back of the hem of his button-up in it.

Dana shrieked in fright at being grabbed and thrown into the room, and she cried out again at the sudden noise of the door crashing closed. She whipped around to face him.

"Marty! What are you doing?! We were supposed to split up and secure our rooms!" Marty grimaced, both at her shrill tone and the words.

"Dana, you've watched plenty of horror movies-" he almost said 'with Jules' but then remembered the disturbing sight of her bloody, decapitated head and swallowed down the words and the accompanying nausea. "You know what happens when everyone splits up!"

The redhead glared at him. "This is real life, Marty, not a movie!" He stepped toward her, only to realize that his shirt was shut in the door. Grumbling to himself, he tried to yank it out, but it wouldn't budge. The door proved to be locked, as well.

"There are - a little help here - zombies out there - seriously, Dana, please help - and our friend has been murdered." Dana, who had finally stepped in his direction, flinched, but she still made her way over to assist him. "I think we can safely say that the normal rules don't apply."

She joined him in tugging at the hem of his shirt, but to no avail. "That doesn't mean - just take it off, Marty - doesn't mean that the horror movie rules do," his friend affirmed. Marty gave in and shrugged off his outer shirt, leaving it hanging from the doorframe. He then grabbed Dana by the arms and looked her in the eyes.

"Jules went outside to have sex with her boyfriend and was killed. We're a group of young people on vacation in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Doors here open and close for no fucking reason, including the trapdoor to a mysterious basement full of random creepy shit like torture diaries with Latin incantations in them. And now there are zombies that throw our friend's head at us, and Curt's telling us to split up. I think it's an appropriate fucking comparison, Dana."

Dana seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she was wrenching out of his grip, dropping to her knees in the corner, and vomiting on the floor. Marty winced and knelt beside her, pulling her hair back with one hand and rubbing her shoulder with the other.

"Aww, geez, Dana, I'm sorry." Her only response was to heave again, but she didn't pull away from his hand. After a few moments, her shudders stilled, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"No, no, you're right. It makes no fucking sense, but you're right. God, what the hell?!"

Marty had no real response to this, so he merely released her hair and slid his hand under her elbow to help her to her feet. Her freed curls swung into her face, and she flicked one away with a huff. Noticing this, Marty held up a finger and went over to his bag. After a moment of rummaging, he produced a black hair band, which he quickly handed over.

"Here. Don't want your hair getting in your eyes while you're slaying zombies." Dana took the offered accessory with a small smile and tugged her hair back into a tight ponytail. She paused for a moment in thought, and before she could even ask, he was giving her a second tie, which she used to fashion the ponytail into a bun.

"Yeah, why do girls in horror movies just leave their hair down the whole time? It gets in the way constantly," she pondered as she worked; Marty merely shrugged. "And why do you even have these?" She inquired as she let her hands fall. He flashed her a grin.

"For one, they're useful to have, especially for someone with my… horticultural habits. For another, Jules was always in need of one, and she always forgot to supply them for herself. I got rather accustomed to carrying them around." Only after he finished the statement did he remember the fate of said friend, and his smile disappeared in an instant. For a moment, they had been interacting so much like normal that he had been able to forget about the grisly last several minutes.

Brought back to himself, he also realized that they had never barricaded the window as they had come in to do, and he threw himself at the opening. In his haste, his hip bumped into his bedside table, and the lamp on it crashed to the ground in a smattering of ceramic.

"Do we have anything to block the opening?" He demanded as he pulled the glass pane shut. Receiving no answer, he turned. "Dana! Do we-" the sight of her kneeling on the floor by the lamp stopped him. "Are you okay? I mean- stupid question- of course you're not, but… what are you doing?" He spotted blood on her hands, but he wasn't sure if it was from catching Jules's head earlier or if she had cut herself on the shards from the lamp. And she still hadn't responded to him. "Dana, I think we have bigger things to worry about than a broken lamp on the floor; you can leave it. Seriously, it's okay. ...Dana. ...Dana?"

Marty swept away some ceramic with his foot to create a space and then knelt down beside her. Wordlessly, she handed him something she had pulled from the mess. He was momentarily confused before he recognized that it wasn't just part of the wiring for the lamp. Hoping that his next assessment was wrong, he began turning the thing over in his hands, but the more he did so, the more he became convinced that he was correct. The implications of that were almost more than he could handle in the moment, and he instinctively reached for the drugs in his pocket before Dana interrupted him.

"Is that…"

"It's a camera," he confirmed. She gripped his arm far too tightly as panic began flashing across her face.

"But why?"

"...I don't know."

Dana leapt to her feet, snatching the offending object from his hands, and began yanking on it frantically. The wire stretched its way across the floor and up the corner of the wall as she pulled, and Marty realized that she was hyperventilating with tears streaming down her face. He quickly got to his feet and reached for her, only to receive an errant elbow to the chest as her movements became more erratic. Winded, he stumbled back a bit before stepping toward her more cautiously.

"Dana, stop. Dana, you gotta calm down, please." She showed no sign of having heard him. Hoping to distract her, he tried a different tact: "Dana, we have to cover the window!" This got a flinch out of the redhead, and she stumbled away from said window, dropping the camera as she did.

"Oh, God, Marty, what the hell is going on?!" She cried as she fell against him. He caught her carefully, feeling just how hard she was shaking in the process, and led her toward his bed. She sat down hard without prompting, but when he tried to pull away to barricade the window, she grabbed onto his arm again. "Marty, why is there a camera?! Who- what- watching… I just don't understand!" She began trembling even harder, and the tears and hyperventilation showed no signs of stopping. Abruptly, she pulled her knees in toward her chest without releasing him. "Oh, God, I'm feeling sick again. Marty, what do we do?!"

"Hey, Dana, breathe." She took a shuddering breath and let it out as he tugged her knees away with his free hand. "Good. Now, here. I know you don't usually smoke, but this will help, I promise. It'll make you less nauseous, and it'll calm you down." When Dana gave no indication of arguing, Marty reached behind him toward his dresser and grabbed a small joint off of the top. Lighting it and taking a short puff, both to get it going and because he wasn't exactly serene himself, he offered it to her.

She took a deep drag and let it out after a moment with a small cough. Marty nodded encouragingly, and she took another few before handing it back.

"Thank you, Marty," she murmured as she wiped her tears. "I just…"

"Hey, no, I get it. This is fucking terrifying, and I don't blame you for freaking. You're just really smart, and I need your head in the game here." With this, Dana squared her shoulders, and her shakes slowed nearly to a stop.

"Alright. So, camera. Someone is watching. Why? Did they know this was going to happen?" Her voice was almost businesslike now as she rose and headed back to the corner.

"Puppeteers," Marty muttered as something clicked in his brain again. Before he could explore it, though, he heard a small metallic creaking noise, followed by a hiss. This also seemed vaguely familiar, and after a moment, he placed it with Curt's sudden change of mind.

"Dana, do you hear that?" As he looked around, a vent caught his eye. "I swear that was closed before." Confused, he looked to Dana, only to see her swaying in place as her eyes glazed over. "Dana, get away from the vent!" He shouted as understanding washed over him. Thinking quickly, he yanked the neck of his long-sleeved shirt over his mouth and nose as he rushed to his friend. She stuttered to meet him, and he pulled her cardigan up to cover hers as well.

"Marty, the window," she slurred. When he only stared at her in confusion, she tugged weakly at his sleeve. "Open the window. Air."

"See? Really smart." She smiled weakly at him as he threw the window back open, and they both breathed in the clean air through their impromptu masks.

A few moments later, Marty heard the hissing stop, but it was quickly followed by the disembodied voice he had heard a few times that night: "Get away from the window, Dana."

"What the fuck?" Marty whipped around, looking yet again for the source, but Dana didn't appear to hear it.

"Get away from the window, Dana," came the whisper again. She still didn't flinch, but she did go to step back.

"Dana, stop!" Marty barked, still looking around. She stared at him strangely, but she obeyed. "Do you not hear that?"

"Hear what, Marty?" She replied as he swung the window shut again. He got the sense that if they hadn't seen zombies and found an unexplained camera, she would have been telling him he was too high again.

"The voice. I heard it before, in the basement, and again in here earlier. I couldn't understand it then."

"Understand what? What voice? What's it saying?" That almost pitying look had vanished, and she was looking frightened again.

"How do they know our names? Or at least yours..." Now he was thinking out loud, but this was enough for Dana. She broke out in a cold sweat and began surveying the room in a near panic.

"Get away from the window, Dana!" The whisper was more commanding this time, and Dana let out a small cry of alarm as she heard it.

"Marty, what's happening?" She staggered away from the window in terror, scuttling backward on her hands when she fell.

"I don't know, but something is majorly wrong here," he asserted as he turned to follow her.

As if to underline his point, a zombie smashed the glass of the unattended window, making both adults scream. Putrid arms wrapped around Marty's waist and began dragging him out of the room as Dana shrieked his name.

OooOooOooOooO (In the Control Room)

Hadley let out a sigh of relief as the Fool was pulled from the room, kicking and screaming, by Judah Buckner.

"Finally," he groaned.

"That was too close," Sitterson agreed as they watched Marty trip and fall to the ground outside the cabin, only to be dragged away by his zombified captor.

"Well, then why didn't you let me gas them in the first place? A little Cortisol and they'd have been out like a light, problem solved," Hadley pointed out with a pout.

"He was giving her some of his weed, which was _supposed_ to have a cognitive suppressant in it. Should have made them both dumber; he is supposed to be the Fool, after all. Then we could have just let them be for a bit and dealt with the Athlete and the Scholar first. And besides, you gassed them afterward, and look how well that worked."

"That's what we get for trusting the chem department, huh, Lin?" The younger man grumbled. "A girl vomits once and panics a little, and her system processes or removes most of the drugs? What damn good does that do?"

"Oh, shit, speaking of which," Sitterson interrupted. "Look." He swung the small screen back toward Hadley, showcasing Dana taking a running leap out the window.

"Fuck, she can't run around out there; the Virgin has to be protected until last, and there are three others left!" Spotting a small fountain of blood on another camera that tracked with where Judah had been dragging Marty, he amended, "Well, two."

"Alright, chem, you better get it right this time," Sitterson growled into the mic as Hadley moved to the lever system. He pulled the lever for the Fool with a bit more relish than was strictly professional and grinned as the resulting earthquake knocked Dana to the ground. She got to her feet, though, and she moved to keep running.

"Chem, I need more Cortisol in sector 7 around the Virgin. Knock her out," Sitterson instructed as his partner returned to his seat. Unfortunately, the sprayers that were usually used for pheromone mists didn't mask the drug the way the indoor ones did, and the gas rose in a visible cloud, but it did its job. Dana stumbled to a halt after a few moments and then dropped to the moss in a heap. With a small high five, the two men turned their attention back to the other two sacrifices. The Virgin would be safe there for a while, and they had a job to do.


	2. Heroes Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dana and Marty are apart, but they're determined to find each other again. The zombies in the way are in for a surprise if they think the humans are going to be stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onward and upward. Here we go. Continuing from (slightly before) where we left off. Since our heroes are separated, I’ll be switching between perspectives occasionally.

OooOooOooOooO (After the Window: Dana)

Dana watched from her position on the floor, frozen in fear and shock, as her friend was hauled out the window. She could hear him screaming outside, and there were some loud thuds, but still she couldn’t bring herself to move. Images of the horrible monster that had been beyond the front door when she had opened it were fresh in her mind, and the phantom weight of Jules’s head in her hands nearly brought her to tears. Moving just seemed like a route to more pieces of her soul being carved away as she watched her friends die at the hands of creatures that shouldn’t even exist in the real world. It was the sound of her name echoing through the woods that finally broke her free of her terror-induced trance, and she quickly lunged to her feet.

“Marty!” She called, as though he would come popping back through yelling “sike!” Of course, there was no response, and she geared herself up. “This is incredibly dumb,” she mumbled in admonition, but there was way around it; she had to try to save Marty. Looking around the room for an acceptable weapon, her eyes lit upon Marty’s heavy-duty travel mug. Or rather, Marty’s extra-heavy-duty bong masquerading as a travel mug.

“Good enough,” she asserted, and she quickly snatched it up and hooked it to her belt. Another glance out the shattered window into the abyss made her hesitate, but she gave herself a firm shake. “This isn’t going to get any less dumb by talking to yourself, Dana. Time to go.” And with that, she backed up and then leapt out the window, hitting the ground and rolling forward with the impact before standing.

The yelling had stopped, and there was no blood trail to follow (she reminded herself to be deeply grateful for that, even if it made things harder now), so she wasn’t really sure where to go. It was too dark to be sure, but she thought there might be a drag trail in the dirt and leaves. Since she had no better clues to go on, she started off in that direction at a careful walk, eyes flicking rapidly between the faint trail and the trees around her. Each step, she expected another zombie to come leaping out of the darkness at her, but there was too much at stake for Dana to let that stop her.

“Marty, you fucking better be alive when I find you.” As if in answer, the ground abruptly rolled under her feet, throwing her to the ground in a heap of twisted limbs and swearing. Her ankle throbbed in protest at the abuse, but she forced herself to her feet. As she limped on, she noticed a mist beginning to rise, seemingly out of nowhere. She slowed even further to listen, and she quickly identified a hissing noise, one that she remembered from those terrifying and confusing moments in Marty’s room.

‘Gas,’ she thought to herself. ‘They’re still watching you, whoever  _ they _ are.’ Thinking quickly, she stumbled to a halt as though affected, holding her breath as surreptitiously as possible, until she allowed herself to collapse. She fell, landing as far away from the gas spouts as she could manage. She pressed her face into the moss and breathed shallowly, using it to filter her air until she eventually heard the hissing stop. ‘Bingo.’

Opting for caution, she waited a few more minutes before she got up, hoping against hope that the mysterious  _ they _ had stopped watching her. When the gas didn’t start up again, she headed off. She had lost the faint trail, but she was more sure than ever that she was on the right track. “Hold on, Marty. I’m coming.”

OooOooOooOooO (After the Window: Marty)

Marty was not having a good day. He’d been repeatedly dismissed in his theories, despite the fact that most of them had turned out to be relevant, which he would be more smug about if things weren’t going to shit quite so quickly. His friend had been decapitated, and now there was some weird conspiracy with cameras, knockout gas, and subliminal messaging. Oh, yeah, and he was being kidnapped by a zombie. Not his best day ever.

As he managed to get his feet outside the window, he turned to run, only to smash to the ground again as he caught his foot on a root. Before he could stand, or do anything besides grunt, the zombie had him by the ankles and was dragging him away. No amount of shouting seemed to deter the brute, and his squirming and grasping at the dirt was no more effective.

In a last ditch effort as he lost sight of the cabin, he screamed for the friend he had left behind in his room, both hoping that she would come to rescue him and praying that she stayed safe and away. He believed for a moment that he heard her cry his name in return, but he shoved that idea away as wishful thinking. Instead, curses bubbled freely to his lips, at his captor, at whoever was behind the scenes controlling this horror show, and at himself for not paying enough attention. ‘I knew I should have barricaded that window when I had the chance,’ he berated himself as he growled out a particularly vicious swear.

As he began to run out of air and creativity, he felt the ground slope down, and it broke him free of his thoughts. The moment screamed ‘Last Chance’ like a neon sign on the side of the highway, and Marty didn’t intend to let it pass him by. In a maneuver that Curt would have been proud of, he used his arms and abs to flip himself over, wrenching his legs out of the zombie’s hold in the process and knocking the creature over. Without giving himself time to think and second guess, he seized the trowel from the ground and drove it hilt deep into the beast’s chest, releasing a spurt of blood. He had hardly started to relax when the monster opened its eyes and began to thrash again, so Marty pulled the weapon out and drove it in again, over and over.

His numerous review sessions with Jules for her pre-med classes all flashed through his mind as he attempted to render the disturbing creature harmless. Placement of vital organs, the amount of blood a human could lose without dying, the way to dearticulate joints: it all buzzed in his brain on autopilot. His arms grew tired, but fear and adrenaline kept him moving long after he would have given up on a typical workout. He could practically hear Curt urging him on, one more set, just another rep or two, from the times he had accompanied his friend to the gym. These memories of his friends gave him the strength to keep cutting and slashing and stabbing, though his stomach wanted to rebel at the mess and the squelching noises that accompanied it.

By the time he stopped, the living corpse had been reduced to a twitching pile of viscera with only a few largely intact pieces to show what it had looked like before. The head was making horrifying gasping sounds, but Marty couldn’t bring himself to find out what it would take to make it stop. He sat, panting, for a few minutes before he could focus on anything other than catching his breath and triumphing over the urge to vomit. One of the zombie’s hands was twitching itself toward his knee, but he just brushed it aside absentmindedly, quickly reaching his threshold for shock and disgust. Besides, he had bigger worries as he climbed wearily to his feet and scrambled out of the hole he found himself in: “Dana!”

OooOooOooOooO (After the Gas: Dana)

Dana still wasn’t sure just what the hell was going on, but she did know that she needed to get to Marty. They were in this together, and she wasn’t just going to abandon him without a fight. She was pretty sure she had ditched whoever had been watching, since the gas hadn’t started up again or anything, but she had no way of knowing for sure. That freaked her out almost as much as the idea that someone was watching and controlling them all in the first place. She felt like Marty as conspiracy theories and questions ricocheted through her head with no solid answers to be found.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the groaning noise at first. When it registered, she spun around, expecting to see Marty on the ground somewhere, injured and in terrible pain. No such sight met her eyes, however, and her alarm nearly settled before the sound came again. Her fear spiked sharply, and she quickly freed the bong from her belt. Gripping it tightly, she began sneaking toward the moans with extreme caution. As she made her way around a tree, a saw buried itself in the wood just in front of her nose, and Dana let out a loud scream. She scrambled backward and nearly dropped the bong in her shock.

The redhead whipped her head around, searching frantically in the darkness for the source of this attack. A slight glow out of the corner of her eye attracted her attention, and she turned to face her foe. The light, she discovered queasily, emitted from the stomach of a zombie, and she was reminded again of the words she had read what seemed like ages ago. ‘Cut her belly and stuffed the coals in…’ oh, God. It really is the family from the diary. The Buckners, like that creepy old man at the gas station talked about.’

As Dana reached this conclusion, the creature in question finally managed to free its saw from the tree, and it advanced again. The young woman fumbled for a moment in terror before she remembered her own weapon, still clenched in her fist. With a snap of her wrist, she extended the bong to its full length and brought it up in time to counter a swing of the zombified mother’s rusty tool. Dana levered down, forcing the saw toward the ground, and then she twisted and lunged forward, striking her foe in the neck with as much force as she could muster. Mama Buckner crashed to the ground with a hiss, but it didn’t seem much inconvenienced as it started to rise.

Before the beast could stand fully again, Dana cocked the bong back like a bat and took a hefty swing. Her old days on the softball team carried her through, and with a disturbing crack, Mama’s head went flying. In spite of Dana’s expectations, however, the body didn’t stop moving.

“Well, fuck. I guess not all of the horror movie rules apply, huh?” With that quip, she swept the bong under the zombie’s feet, knocking it over once more. The saw fell from its fingers, and Dana quickly kicked it behind her and out of reach. The monster, meanwhile, had gotten onto its hands and knees and was crawling toward its severed head. With a quick thought of thanks to Marty and his ingenuity in creating his disguisable paraphernalia, Dana brought the sturdy thing down on Mama’s back, flattening it and drawing a groan.

Hope flared in her briefly, but then the creature began to move once more in the direction of its missing limb. She prepared to hit it again, but she was stopped as a voice rang through the trees.

“Dana!”

Relief surged through her at the sound of Marty’s voice, and her battle with the zombie was quickly forgotten as she sprinted in the direction of the call, noting passively that it was back the way she had come. “Marty!”

As she dodged around a tree, she looked up just in time to see her friend before she catapulted into him and sent them both tumbling back into the hole he had just climbed out of.

OooOooOooOooO (Reunited)

Marty let out a groan as they hit the ground, his arms instinctively wrapping around her. The bong clattered out of Dana’s hand, and it bounced to a halt with a wooden thump that stirred something in Marty’s mind. But most of his attention was on his friend, who was somehow here and safe and...digging her bony elbow into his gut. He groaned again, and she looked up, or down, maybe, at him.

“Marty!”

“Hi.”

“You’re okay! I mean, are you hurt? I was so worried!” She scanned him for injuries as best she could, hampered by the fact that most of his body was covered by hers.

“Dana,” he managed.

“Yes?”

“Can’t breathe.”

“Oh, what’s wrong? Did you get strangled or punched or cut or something?” At this, he huffed out a laugh.

“You’re laying on my lungs.”

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” She quickly slid off of him, blushing both at her mistake and the implications of their position that she was just recognizing. Marty waved off her apologies as he hauled himself into a sitting position, and they both took a moment to look each other over, verifying that the other was largely unhurt.

“What are you doing here?” Marty asked once he was certain she was alright.

“I wasn’t just going to let you get-” she choked on the word ‘killed’ and opted for something easier “-taken.” As uneasy as she was, she still found space to be indignant at the thought that she would abandon him like that. “I had to try to help.”

He nodded slowly at this and reached forward to brush a chunk of moss off of her cheek before standing. She smiled shyly up at him as he offered her a hand and hauled her to her feet.

“But it looks like you had it handled. How did you get away?” Just then, she felt a touch on the top of her foot, and looked down to see a disembodied hand crawling on her; she let out a scream and staggered back. A hollow sound echoed under her shoes, and she looked around in confusion as Marty caught her arm.

“It’s okay. It can’t hurt you.” He steadied her. “Sorry about that. That’s… uh… that’s how I got away.” His gesture encompassed the corner of the small space, and through the gloom, she saw the mess that had once been a zombie.

“Oh. Good work.” She grimaced. “You did better than I did; I could barely get the head off mine.”

Marty froze, and his grip on her arms tightened fractionally.

“Yours? Wait, what happened to you?”

“Well, once I got away from the gas,” at his look, she backtracked, “I think whoever’s fucking with us was still watching me when I went to find you, and they tried to gas me again. Thanks to you, I noticed, so I did what I thought you would do and kinda… played possum until it stopped. It made me lose the drag trail, though, and I guess I went the wrong way after that. I heard noises that I thought were you, but it was another zombie. I think it was Mama Buckner from the diary; she had coals in her stomach.” Marty’s face scrunched at that, and then he seemed to get lost in thought as he considered the implications of that. “Anyway, I had your bong with me, and I used that to knock her head off, but she wouldn’t stop. I kept hitting her, but it didn’t seem to do much, and then I heard you calling, and well, here we are.”

Marty bent to pick up the weapon in question, and as he did, he noticed an odd pattern on the ground. It reminded him of the familiar sounds the floor had made, and he rapped his knuckles on it. Again, it sounded back hollow, and he motioned Dana back. After a moment’s inspection, he spotted a ring set into the wood, and as he pulled, he discovered what looked like a storm cellar.

“Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice,” Dana mumbled beside him as they both stared down into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought, please. I'm dying over here.

**Author's Note:**

> So there's chapter one. Let me know your thoughts, and the next update will hopefully come relatively soon. A big thank you to itslaurenmae on tumblr for their help on this chapter and for being generally so supportive.


End file.
